


Dangerous Games

by jessicaannsavage



Category: Fallout - Fandom, Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Mild Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 08:35:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5450219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessicaannsavage/pseuds/jessicaannsavage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hancock and F!Sole Survivor first kiss. Also known as Ronnie really doesn't like when you insult her ghoul bae. Also I suck at summaries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dangerous Games

Angry would not be the word he would use. Jaw clenched, knuckles white, damn near growling; the woman’s not angry. She’s far beyond it. Hancock wouldn’t exactly say she was quick to anger, but once the fuse was lit, it was time to get the fuck out of dodge. 

Her shoulders quiver, and though he can’t see her face, he’s keenly aware that her lip is curled up. That much he’s accustomed to. Like a vicious dog closing in on it’s victim. He’d be lying if that wasn’t one of her many qualities that made him entertain those impure thoughts.

The impure thoughts aren’t nearly as prominent now, however, as Ronnie rounds on the sneering merc.

“What the fuck did you just say?” She takes deliberate steps towards him, positively seething.

“I said your zombie is fucking disgusting. Keep it outside.”

“C’mon sunshine, let’s just go.” He calls to her, hopeful as he sees her head turn the slightest bit.

She begins to turn, eyeing the red faced wastelander out of the corner of her eye. Hancock releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and turns to lead the way to the bar, knowing they’ll both be thankful for the drink after the week that they’ve had. The mercenary takes a few jogging steps, catching up with the snarling woman.

“If your ghoul goes feral, I’m putting him down,” he laughs, leaning forward to whisper in her ear as she walks.

It’s too late, she’s too quick. In a moment she’s pulling her shotgun into her hands and ripping her arms back, slamming the weathered wood into the mercs face with a satisfying crunch. He stumbles backwards, clutching at his nose, trying to contain the red before his heel catches on something and his back smacks into the dirt, dust rising around him. With practiced fluidity she spins and cocks the gun before pointing it directly at the mercs contorted face. 

“Make one more fucking comment and I’ll paint this town with the inside of your fucking skull.” She growls, and were it not for every guard in the general vicinity looking their way at this exact moment, he might have found himself turned on. 

“Do it bitch.” the guy sneers, and Hancock groans. Some people just don’t have a sense of self preservation.

“Don’t think I won’t.” she hisses, lining up for the shot.

He’s on her in a moment, pushing the shotgun down and pulling her to him.

“Ronnie. This scum ain’t worth it.” he pleads softly, his chest against her back, hoping this guy has a little more sense than he’s shown thus far.

Slowly she lowers the barrel, eyes narrow and burning. Hancock steps away as she slings the gun back over her shoulder to rest between her shoulder blades, keeping a hand on her arm. Just as he begins to think that the situation’s been defused, the stupid son of a bitch opens his mouth again.

“Ew, you let that fucking thing touch you?”

It stings worse than any bullet, the way every muscle in her body stiffens, and he recoils, shrinking away from her. Shame washes over him, his face hot and his gut knotting. He’s ready to leave, ready to put as much distance between himself and Ronnie, hoping to save her the shame. 

He doesn’t get far before she’s spinning on her toes, her fury etched on her brow. Without hesitation she seizes him by his lapels, jerking him into her and capturing his lips in a kiss that lights his very being on fire. 

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting from her, but this certainly was not it.

Her lips crush his at first, hard and angry, before softening as her tongue glides along his bottom lip. It takes longer than he’d like to admit to react, hesitant to pull her into him, but one hand grips her hip to pull her close, the other hand tangling in her hair, and he melts into her.

Her tongue slides past his lips and dances across his, and everything seems to slow to a stop around them. This small retaliation could get them both killed right here in the streets of Diamond City, but as both of her hands cup his face he finds that he couldn’t care less. 

His arm snakes around her waist, securing her against him, and both of her arms wrap around his neck, anchoring him there. He doesn’t want the moment to end- wants every single person in the Common Wealth to see him kissing this woman, a smoothskin, hands roaming over every curve. He’s acutely aware of every set of eyes that’s glued to the both of them, but it only encourages him. Let them see, he thinks. Let them see that she’s not disgusted by him. 

Her lips are red and kiss swollen when she pulls away, and her breath is ragged from the kiss. Every bit of him is alive and thrumming with the excitement, and he leans in to steal one last kiss. It’s a hell of a lot shorter than the first, but the way she leans into it, eyes closing with a sigh, melts away any shame that lingered.

The merc is swearing, voicing his disgust, but Hancock doesn’t hear a word over the thumping in his chest. His eyes are locked on her’s as she gazes up at him, and there’s something in her eyes he can’t quite place.

“Ghoul fucker!” the mercenary yells, and a harsh laugh rips through her throat.

She turns on her heel, spitting in the mercs direction and grabbing Hancock by the hand, lacing her fingers with his. Without hesitation he follows, and tries to pretend his hands aren’t shaking. 

 

* * *

“Ronnie.” He starts once the door is shut behind them. With a thump her pack hits the floor. She must not have heard, as she rifles through the bag, producing a pack of cigarettes.

He doesn’t want to have this conversation. Questions buzz around in his head, and each answer he anticipates makes his stomach churn.

“Ronnie.” he says again, and her head pops up.

“Yeah, Hancock,” she says casually, her brow knitting as she takes in his demeanor, “What’s wrong?”

“We gotta talk.” 

“About?” she asks as she stands, her arms instinctively crossing over one another.

“Today. Your, uh- display in the middle of the street.” He shifts, unsure of himself now, and uncomfortably aware that he has nothing to do with his hands.

“Did that make you uncomfortable?” she interrupts, concern softening her features.

“No. Heh, definitely not uncomfortable. More like- look,” he says with a sigh, “You doin’ that, as much as I enjoyed it, could get us killed pretty damn quick out here. These people- They don’t take too kindly to ghouls, or ghoul lovers.”

“I believe the term you’re looking for is ‘ghoul fucker’” she corrects with a smirk, and her hip juts out. 

“Yeah, that one.” He curses the lump in his throat, tries to swallow it down without it being noticeable.

“It’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever called me.” There’s a lilt to her tone, playful and dangerous and he likes it, a little too much. He chokes out a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck as he continues.

“Well, folks don’t exactly see that as a badge of honor.”

“What the fuck do I care how people see me?” she snorts.

“It could get you killed.” She laughs at that, loud and harsh.

“If kissing ghouls’ll get me killed, let it. Should’ve begged you to fuck me right there. That really would have driven my point home.”

His laugh is breathless, and he tries to ignore how tight his pants are becoming.

“What? Some cute little smoothskin, on her knees, begging for that ghoul cock. Now that would have been a sight.”

“Oh fuck, Ronnie.” he groans, hand rubbing across his burning face.  
Arms dropping to her sides, she crosses the floor to him. Something dangerous dances behind her eyes as her hands come to rest on his chest, and he places his hands cautiously on her hips.

“Oh no. I’m a dirty ghoul fucker.” she gasps mockingly, her hand coming to his cheek.

“Technically,” he whispers, eyes scanning her up and down, “you’re not a ghoul fucker.”

“You gonna make an honest woman out of me, John?” she asks, and that fire is back in the pit of his stomach.

He should do it. Kiss her hard and slam her against the wall, give her what they both want so bad. But his eyes dart away from the inviting lips, and he gives a sheepish shake of his head.

“You don’t want that as your title, doll.”

“I’d rather be called ‘Hancock’s girlfriend’, but I’ll take ghoul fucker if it means I’m with you.” His heart is in danger of stopping in his chest, his fingers grip her a little tighter.

“You don’t want either of those.” He tries to laugh it off, tries to make light of it, but she sees right through him, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look at her.

“I think I know what I want, John. It’s you.” The playfulness has left her voice, her eyes serious and searching. 

It takes him a moment, gears turning, but he pulls her against him again with a ghost of a smile.

“Who am I to refuse a beautiful woman like you?”

Both of her hands come to his face, bringing his forehead to hers.

“Don’t you worry about what a single motherfucker says about you and me, John. Right here? I’m exactly where I want to be.” Her thumbs brush against his cheeks, and the fire burns hotter.

“This is gonna be trouble for the both of us, sunshine.” he whispers as her lips ghost across his. To resist her is futile, he decides as he watches the way her lips curl into a devious smirk.

“What was that you said about me being your kind of trouble?” she teases, one brow raised and eyes glimmering. He chuckles before dipping in to capture her lips and decides if there’s anything in this world that’s worth taking a risk for, it’s her- without a doubt in his mind, it’s her.


End file.
